


minutes

by Ceebee



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Clothing Kink, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:52:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceebee/pseuds/Ceebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's been a while since he's given himself time for this.</i>
</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>For the prompt: Just give me Matt rubbing himself off through his clothes. Maybe just because he likes the way it feels, maybe because he's too sensitive to touch his own skin directly, whatever.</p>
<p>Bonus points if it's the black mask outfit tight jeans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh thank u for the perfection that is the daredevil kink meme. And sorry about this.

Sometimes, Matt needs to feel it _now_. He needs the rough friction of skin on skin that creates an instant tension at the base of his spine because the touch is always too much, too good. And he can't stand it for more than a few seconds before he's riding it out, hips jerking, one fist stuffed between his teeth to catch the soft, almost pained grunt that's shocked out of him every time.

But, sometimes, Matt only wants to take it slow. Like now, leaning back against the fridge door with his hand just-barely touching - hovering, almost, over the front of of his jeans. It's been a while since he's given himself time for this, but the streets were rough tonight and he wants more than a spark. He wants fucking hellfire. 

He leaves everything on. It's getting hot under the mask but that somehow makes it _better_. He's always had a bit of a thing for closed off spaces, where he feels what he's being _made_ to feel, tight and dark and controlled. So when his face starts to itch beneath the cotton and sweat starts to bead, it's just one more thing to drive him to the edge, and he can't help pressing forward against his own palm.

It doesn't wash over him in the same way as when he does this without clothes. They cradle him and cling to him and he just ruts, quiet little _un-un-unf_ s tripping from his lips as his palm sweats and collects fibres from his jeans. He's being smothered and it's a delicious pull from his socked feet to his stomach that leaves him panting. His head falls back against the fridge and a dull pain spreads like warm fingers through his hair.

It's only been minutes but for Matt it's like forever. His shirt is damp with sweat and he knows that when he comes he'll feel it inside his clothes, soaking in, leaving him slick and sticky. 

When it happens it's like he's being wrung out. A flannel that's been soaked in boiling water, now being twisted between gloved hands. He let's out a choked noise and just keeps thrusting against his hand, grinding the material hard against his dick, and it sends wave after stifling wave through him.

He pulls his hand away just before it becomes too much, breathing heavily. It takes a few moments more to take off the mask.


End file.
